Snacks and Grand Pianos
by KiwiStar
Summary: For Delightful Ruin. Punk is home alone when he runs into a little dilemma, he's out of snacks. It also happens to be his girlfriend's birthday, and she thinks he forgot, but has he? Punk/OC


**Hullo everyone! What's cracking? How are you all doing? Now, on to the main point. This oneshot was written for Delightful Ruin. She asked, and therefore, it has been received, lol. I combined some humor and seriousness together, and I hope she enjoys the story. I do not own Alex. Alex is owned by Delightful Ruin. CM Punk, as well as any other WWE Superstars are not owned by either of us. Any similarities to real life events, people, etc., is coincidental and this story is entirely fictitious.**

**I think that's all. Aside from all that, please ignore any spelling and grammatical errors. Oh, and leave some feedback if you wish, constructive criticism, etc, it's all welcome. Well, not flaming, whatever. Moving on, please read, review, and enjoy. :D**

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><p>Punk's eyes narrowed on the screen, his thumbs twiddling furiously as his character moved on the screen. He was perched on the edge of the couch, his headset secured. The young man was focused on the game, on being the winner. In the back of his mind, he kept a clock of how much time he had left. By his judgment, about...less than ten seconds. Thus far, he was in the lead. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bullet careened through the air and pierced him in the head.<p>

_Headshot_

The screen flashed that he lost and a string of curse words flew out of his mouth, "Asshole. I totally shot you first." Punk growled, snapping his head to look at the dog laying beside him. "_I_ shot him first, didn't I!" He yelled, and the dog looked up at him. "C'mon, girl, you know I shot him first."

The dog yawned, got up, and jumped off the couch. She trotted away, her tail swishing in the air as she went.

"Punk, are you talking to your dog?" Randy asked, holding back a laugh.

"You talk to your wife, don't you?" Punk retorted, and smirked when he heard Randy sigh. "Dude, chill. I'm kidding. If you can talk to your lady, why can't I talk to mine?"

"Whatever. Restart the match," Randy said, and Punk did as he was told.

"Or what?" Punk questioned.

"I'll hack your XBL and change your gamertag to SpunkyPunky."

Mid-way through the match, Punk was in the lead, and he had just scored another achievement. "Hear that? Yeah, I just got another achievement." He laughed, tossing his head back as he reached his hand out for the bag of chips that was sitting next to him. His fingers grabbed air and his eyebrows knit together. It wasn't right, not having his snacks. It was damn near a disgrace. A frown breached his lips and he shook his head, "BABE!" He called out with a whine, "_Babe._"

He looked around, hoping there was something in the direct vicinity that could pass as a snack. His eyes settled on the can of Pepsi on the table. The roof seemed to split and a holy light shone down, beaming on his sacred can of Pepsi. In something that closely resembled Baywatch-Slow-Mo, he lurched forward, wrapped his fingers around the can and brought it to his lips. What he tasted was a single drop of bitter, flat Pepsi. It was the last can, he could feel it. A sob escaped his lips and he shook the can over his outstretched tongue. He whimpered as nothing came out.

"You okay?" Wade asked, the Englishman had joined their party.

"BABE," Punk called out, knowing that Alex was somewhere in the building. She had to be, she had nowhere else to go. "HONEY? ALEX!" He couldn't strain the whine from his voice. On any normal occasion, when he wasn't busy with something he deemed highly important, like wasting his Sunday playing video games on his rare day off, he would've made a slight effort to get off his ass and hunt for his own food. However, he was lazy. "I know you're home, Alex."

"Are yeh okay?" Sheamus's voice came from his headset.

"No," Punk sighed, rubbing his neck, "I'm out of snacks."

No response came. With a sigh, he dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.

"Hey, this is Alex."

"Alex!" He grinned.

"I'm not in right now, so please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks," her voice said and Punk growled.

"Alex. _Alex_. Alex," he repeated, holding out her name, "Babe, _babe_."

"You know, Punk, you could just...get up."

"No, Randal...that...that just won't do," Punk shook his head, "How about this," Punk began, gesturing with his hands, despite the fact that they couldn't see him, "why don't you get me a snack."

"Punk, I'm in St. Louis."

"And I'm in Chicago. It's a good thing that you know where you are."

"You know what I meant. I can't get you a snack."

"Randal," CM Punk sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Missouri is snugged right up to Illinois. So close, in fact, they're practically friends with benefits."

"Yeah, but by the time I get there, it'll be late. You won't be hungry anymore, because you'll eventually get food," Randy stated.

Punk seemed to contemplate this for a moment. He bit his lip, thinking it over. His eyes darted in the direction of the kitchen, then back to the screen in time to dodge the grenade Sheamus had thrown at him. "I'll wait for you."

"It's a five-hour drive!" Randy replied, "I'm not coming over, Punk."

"Alex! What do you think about Randy coming over?" After a few minutes with no reply, he scowled, "Which one of you took her?"

"Huh?" Wade asked.

"One of you guys took my girlfriend. I demand to know where she is."

"Phil," Wade started slowly, "I—"

"Wade. I thought I told you to call me Punk."

"Whatever. Phi—Punk. I don't know how much you know about geography, but both Sheamus and I are in Florida. That's a long ways away from Chicago," Wade said, "So, unless I possess some sort of voodoo magical powers that I don't know about, I did not steal your girlfriend. Can we get back to the game?"

Punk frowned and focused back on the game. He lurched forward as his character meleed Randy. A chuckle erupted from his throat and he heard footsteps. Turning his head, he saw the dirty-blonde head of hair appear in the doorway. She had two, large brown bags in her arms and she kicked the door shut behind her.

"She's here, guys. All is good."

"Told ya," Randy murmured and Punk raised a hand.

"Hey, Alex. You're alive."

"Been that way for twenty-eight years, don't plan on changing it anytime soon," she murmured and walked into the kitchen. The kitchen was attached to the living room, only being separated by a half-wall that also served as a counter top. Alex set the bags on the counter and rested her forearms against the marble top, "Why do you ask?" Her hand darted into one of the bags and drew out an orange. Sliding her finger under the peel, she whistled, "Punkert!"

"One second ," Punk muted his headset and pivoted to face Alex, "I just...you didn't answer when I called, and I didn't know where you were." It sounded odd when he said it aloud. He couldn't remember if she had told him she was going to be gone. The only thing he noticed was that she wasn't there, especially when she usually was. She always left a note, or let him know, if she was leaving.

"I accidentally left my phone here," Alex replied, "I'm sorry. I left a note."

"What?" Phil's eyebrow hiked up, "Bullshit."

"Oh really?" Her eyebrow rose up as she opened the door to the refrigerator and began to pack things away. After shutting the door, she tapped on it, "There's a Post-It on the fridge."

"I-I didn't see it," Punk cleared his throat, "I didn't go into the kitchen today."

"Oh yeah," She laughed, "because you live off of food that's in a few-inch radius of yourself." Alex replied sarcastically, "And if it's a Sunday, and if you're playing video games with guys you see damn near everyday, it kills you to walk into the kitchen, get something to eat, and come back."

"By they way, while you're out there, can you get me a snack?" He asked hopefully, and when she didn't reply, he muttered a thanks and turned back to the game.

_Thunk_!

His hand jumped to the back of his head and he looked down to see and apple rolling across the floor. Turning back to Alex, he cried incredulously, "Did you just throw an _apple_ at me?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"You said you wanted a snack," Alex retorted as she walked into the room. She picked up the apple, brushed it off, and sat beside Punk. He held out his hand and she handed it over. Taking a bite out of it, he put a hand on her knee. "Phil?"

"Yeah?" He asked. She looked slightly hurt, as if something was nagging at her. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she shook her head. "Alright," Alex corrected herself as he gave her his signature 'Not buying it' face, "You know what today is, don't you?" She chewed her lip. It was her birthday, and she was afraid he had forgotten. Yet again, she reminded herself, she had left before he woke up, and she had just gotten home.

"Yeah," he replied, swallowing the smirk that was trying to spread across his face. "Have you checked downstairs yet?"

Alex paused and shook her head, "No..." She trailed off. Quickly standing up, she bolted down the hall and around the corner. He could hear the slamming of a door and the pounding of footsteps down the stairs. Chuckling, he got up and slowly followed. He wanted to give her time to find it, not that it was going to be hard to miss...

Alex stood, wide-eyed and in awe of the image before here. Tucked into the corner of the room was a sleek, black grand piano. A large, red bow was stuck on the top, with a card. She ran towards it, and sat on the seat. Shutting her eyes, she let her fingers dance along the keys. It had been awhile since she had last played, and the feeling of being there, and having the keys beneath her fingertips, was invigorating. The piano was one thing that made her feel safe, to truly be at peace. She could let herself be embraced by the music, let the notes sink in.

Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw Punk standing with his back on the doorway. He smiled, waving slightly at her grin. "How did you...?" She trailed off, wiping away a tear that was forming in her eye.

"Well," Phil began as he moved closer and sat next to her, "remember how I kinda...for lack of a better term, persuaded you to leave the house a few days ago?"

"You were eager to see me leave," She corrected and he shrugged, "Continue."

"Anyway, they piano guys stopped by, dropped it off, and viola. I made sure you didn't need anything from the basement, and...yeah." He gestured towards the piano. "I knew that you used to play a lot, and that you didn't get to play much anymore, because of the schedule and you didn't have your own. Well, now you have your own. Notice anything about the piano?"

She looked at him curiously, then studied the piano. At first glance, she couldn't see it, but the more she looked at it, the more familiar it seemed. "Phil," Alex said slowly, her voice cracking, "i-is this my father's old piano?"

"Yeah," he replied softly, putting a hand on her lower back, "I called your mom, and she agreed that it'd be best if you could have it."

"He taught me how to play," Alex murmured, playing a couple of notes. She rested her head on his shoulder, "He taught me about wrestling, and pretty much everything else," Alex chuckled, "He was my best friend. He would've liked you, Phil." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. Angling his head down, he captured her lips in his.

Alex grinned, looking into his eyes. She could see the warmth in his irises and his grin that somehow made her smile. His arms felt safe to her, as if in his arms was where she was supposed to be. With him, she found somewhere she really belonged. He laughed, noticing her stare.

"Yes?"

"I love you, Phil,"

"I love you too, Alex," Punk smiled, caressing her cheek in his hand. "And, Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday."


End file.
